Park Bench
by ephemereal
Summary: That day, she was just a girl cutting class to explore the city. Oneshot.


**_Author's Note: _**_This is writ__ten for speedrent and based on the prompt "a chance meeting." The omission of names is entirely intentional, and meant to emphasize the prompt. I hope it's more than obvious who I'm talking about. _

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******Park Bench**

He found her sitting on a bench in the park. Appropriate, really, when she thought about it later, but at the time there was no way she could possibly have known. That day, she didn't yet know that she would spend two months sleeping on the very same bench. That things were about to get very bad at home. That her whole life was going to end and begin again in two short years. That day, she was just a girl cutting class to explore the city.

"You're in my seat, sweetie." He was a tall, skinny kid, all black eyeliner and spiky blond hair and soft old leather.

"D'you own this park?" She gave him a look through her eyelashes. She was old enough to know that she liked making boys stare.

"Nah, just the world." She noticed suddenly that he was holding a much-stickered guitar case over one shoulder, because he swung it onto the bench beside her and snapped open the latches.

"Oh yeah? Where'd you get the money?"

"Huh?" He picked the guitar up, then shoved the case to the ground. He flopped down beside her with the same easy confidence as the boys she watched all day at school. He had to be older though, she could tell.

"To buy the world. Where'd you get it?" She stretched out on the bench, looking over his shoulder as he began tuning the guitar. There was something about the way his long fingers moved. She'd never stopped to pay much attention to music; it was what she danced to, and that was all. She'd never given any thought at all to how it was made.

"Sold myself," he said. He finished tuning, and began playing little odds and ends of things, humming along a little too. "You know, high demand. For me. Raises quite the fortune."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Was that sarcasm?" He asked, giving her a mock-serious look. She just laughed. "What, you don't think I'm hot? Everyone else does."

She did, but she wasn't about to say so. Instead she just kept smiling, until he went back to his guitar. He didn't ever seem to stop playing, not even when he was looking her straight in the eye. It was a part of him, like breathing. "Who're you running away from?" she asked at last.

He did stop, then, for just a second, and gave her a strange look. "What makes you think I'm running away from anything?"

She laughed again, because something about being around him was making her giddy. "Who practices guitar outside? You live around here?"

"My roommate's girlfriend," he said after a moment, smiling too. He had an amazing smile. It lit his entire face. "She's an actress. Which involves a lot of auditions. Which today involves a lot of green face paint, and running around the loft screaming at the top of her lungs. Sounds something like a cross between a cat and a cow. And yeah."

"Not exactly the best place to practice," she agreed. His guitar had a plastic decal of a red rose just below the end of the strings. She ran a finger over it very lightly, watching him watch her.

"Nope. So I came out here."

"And now you're with me." She couldn't think of anything else to say, but she also didn't want him to get sucked back into the music. Somehow she had a feeling that they had more to say to one another.

"Yeah." He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. "I'm with you."

"Do you ever stop playing that thing?" He held the guitar like an appendage; it seemed the music came out of an entirely subconscious effort. Now that she'd watched him with it for barely ten minutes, she found that she couldn't imagine him without it ever.

"Occasionally. When I'm eating." He started a new song without looking up.

"Does that mean you sleep with it?" She wasn't entirely sure what was real and what was kidding anymore.

"Yes," he said flatly.

She watched him some more, giving an idea time to bounce around and grow in her mind. She didn't do this kind of thing often, but she'd come out looking for an adventure this day. There was really nothing to lose. It wasn't as if she'd ever see him again, however much she might want to.

"I bet I can make you put it down," she said at last.

"What?" He obviously wasn't listening.

"The guitar. I can make you put it down."

He gave her a look. "Try me."

She grinned, got up, took a few steps to the right of the bench. She waited until he was looking up at her, then spun around and sat straddling the knee where he wasn't balancing the guitar. Looking him straight in the eye, she leaned forward and kissed him.

"Whoa." His eyes went wide, but he recovered quickly. "Merry Christmas. Now sit and tell Santa what he's gonna have to stand in line for this year."

She snorted, and stood up. "You."

"What?" He looked flustered; it pleased her, somehow, to know that she could cause that kind of response.

"For Christmas. I want you. You said you sell yourself to everyone, why not me?"

"Ah, sweetie, I'm kinda…bought out." He stopped playing and shrugged. "Sorry."

"'s Okay." She didn't know where the stab of disappointment came from. It wasn't as if she had expected anything from him anyway. She didn't actually care about him. Did she? "See you around."

He watched as she got to her feet. She could feel his eyes on her all the way down the street.

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Review please! 


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